


forget-me-not

by somalester



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-09-19 19:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somalester/pseuds/somalester
Summary: For the prompt: "Steve retires. Tony visits him." / Or, years after Civil War and Thanos, Tony and Steve have a much needed talk.





	forget-me-not

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cap iron man community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cap+iron+man+community).



> I'm pretty sure that this isn't how this prompt was meant to go, but when I read it, I had this idea and I couldn't not write this.  
> I hope you enjoy reading anyway!

Sometimes it feels like the walls are closing in on Steve.

His house is quite big, he’s living in the suburbs of Washington, far away from the busy humming of the city, and it makes him feel restless. He knows it’s because he doesn’t have as much to do as he used to, before his retirement. Occasionally, he still drives by the Compound to oversee the training of the new Avengers, but he forbids himself from doing it too often. He’s retired for a reason, after all.

Instead, he draws and paints, he takes care of his dog and reads up on seventy years worth of books he’s missed.

Still, it’s not enough, sometimes. More often than not, he ends up with insomnia.

His therapist says it’s due to his mind being used to war, to being alert all the time. Even though Steve’s never bothered to tell her, he knows she’s got it wrong. He has a lot of issues, but the soldier in him usually solidifies in sudden triggers that make him flinch, or plain and simple nightmares.

Dodger whines and presses his snout into Steve’s knee.

Steve takes the hint for what it is and starts petting him.

It’s been better, ever since Steve took him home from the shelter. Whenever lonely evenings stretch into the night, his dog is he only thing keeping away the horrible loneliness.

Not today, though. He’s got a visitor.

“It’s nice,” Tony says, who’s been looking around the spacious living room for the past five minutes. “It suits you. Although, to complete the American Dream you’re missing a wife and two and a half kids.”

Steve doesn’t smile. “I tried, for a while. Dating Sharon, I mean. Never worked out.”

Tony frowns. “Really? I thought your relationship was better than that.”

Steve doesn’t rise to the bait. It’s not like he hasn’t had that exact thought himself after he and Sharon called it quits again.

“It wasn’t like ours, at least,” Tony adds quietly, with a wry twist to his mouth that makes Steve’s stomach turn.

“Don’t say that,” Steve snaps.

Tony raises his eyebrows. “Why not? We only ever fought, Steve.”

Steve swallows. Tony’s right, there is no denying it. “I always loved you,” is what he says instead. “Even when we fought.”

“Got a funny way of showing it,” Tony says dryly.

Steve flinches and the old guilt once again settles in his chest. “Can we please not do this? I haven’t seen you in so long.”

Tony shrugs, as if it doesn’t matter to him. “Sure. How’s retirement treating you?”

Steve swallows. Tony’s standing there, in one of his most expensive suits, with silver in his hair and wrinkles across his face. He’s as gorgeous as he’s ever been, and Steve wants nothing more than to make everything right between them, get those years in the tower back, when Tony was his and they were both happy. But he doesn’t want to spend this conversation fighting.

“I can’t sleep,” is what comes out of Steve’s mouth because apparently, sticking to safe topics is impossible for him.

Tony glances at the clock on the wall; it’s nearly midnight. “Nightmares?”

Steve shrugs. He does struggle with that, sure, but it’s not his main problem.

Tony watches him with what Steve hopes is concern in his eyes. “Remember when you used to drag me out of the lab and make me go to sleep? Yeah, I felt like that then, too.”

Steve nods; he always suspected Tony had a problem like this. Too much noise in his head, too much fear of waking up screaming if he did go to sleep.

“I’m seeing Doctor Linda now,” Steve says, trying for a smile.

To his surprise, Tony laughs. “Poor woman probably still has palpitations from trying to fix me.”

Steve shakes his head. “She said she liked your sessions, actually.”

Tony tilts his head. “Awh, really? Wish she could’ve had more success with me. It must’ve been pretty frustrating.”

Steve feels a horrible lump build in his throat. Tony hadn’t been going to therapy that long when Ross had presented them with the Accords. Steve had been so proud of him then, for finally working on his mental health. And then, just a few months later, they’d ripped everything between them apart.

“I was worried about you,” Steve whispers. _God_ , he should just _shut up_ about this, but he can’t. The words have been locked in his throat for so long. “When I left, I... I’ve never stopped caring about you.”

(Never stopped loving you either.)

“I thought we weren’t going to do this,” Tony says.

Steve bites his lip and stares at the floor. Dodger licks his hand and whines again, this time merely reacting to Steve’s distress.

“I want to make things right with you,” Steve whispers, quietly, like a confession.

“Little late for that, don’t you think?” Tony asks calmly.

Steve wants to cry. Whatever he said, it would all be too late. The damage is tone, and it’s been years since Thanos.

“I never wanted it to end like this.”

“Sure you didn’t,” Tony says easily. “We both didn’t. But this is where we are, Steve.”

Steve sighs. “I don’t regret not supporting the Accords. I couldn’t have signed them with good conscience.”

Tony watches him openly, without judgment. “I know.”

“But fighting you...” Steve concentrates on the smooth feeling of Dodger’s fur beneath his fingers. “It was the hardest thing I ever did.”

Tony snorts. “Didn’t look that hard to me. Would’ve taken you one more hit to end it.”

Steve feels a telltale pressure behind his eyes and fights it down. Tony being here is dragging up all sorts of feelings he’d long buried. (And yet, he yearns for every moments he gets to have with him.)

“I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing he can say, really. He knew he’d gone too far in that moment, when he’d lifted his shield and saw the far in Tony’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Tony.”

Tony cradles his left hand to his chest, and Steve doesn’t have to look to know that it’s shaking.

“You never called,” Tony whispers in lieu of responding to Steve’s apology.

“You didn’t call either.” Steve has to keep himself from making it sound accusatory.

Tony snorts. “Because it was my turn to make a move, huh?”

Steve flinches. That was exactly what a part of him _had_ thought at that time. All while the rest of him was so heavy with guilt and anger still he didn’t dare move.

Tony simply shakes his head. “We weren’t in High-School anymore, Steve. This isn’t how it works.”

It kind of feels that way now, though. With how ridiculous everything seemed just two years later, when both of them was facing Thanos alone.

“You knew about my parents and you chose to lie to me,” Tony says, cold. “And you thought a simple letter would cut it?”

Steve simply shakes his head. He hadn’t - that hadn’t been his intent at all. He needed to tell Tony how sorry he was, how he’d never meant to hurt him. And since he hadn’t been brave enough to call, he’d sent the letter instead, knowing he had to do _something_.

“I wanted to tell you in person, I swear.” Steve’s close to pleading with Tony, and forces his voice to remain somewhat steady. “I never - I never wanted it to end like this.”

“Well, it did.” Tony looks down to wheres he’s sitting on the couch with indifference. “And you’re the one who has to live with it.”

A sob escapes Steve’s throat.

Tony smiles wryly. “It’s not fair, is it? I made mistakes too, but I got the easy way out.”

Steve shakes his head through his tears because no, _no_ , that’s -

“Don’t,” he rasps. “Please don’t say that.”

Tony shrugs. “I’m not the real Tony anyway.”

Because the real Tony died in the Endgame he’d tried to warn them all about. And now Steve is talking to a ghost of his own mind.

“You sacrificed yourself for all of us,” Steve hisses. “That’s no _easy way out_.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. “And yet, you’re the one crying in your living room.”

Steve blinks and, for the first time, feels how wet his cheeks are.

Tony sighs. “You haven’t adjusted to retirement at all, have you?”

Steve does his level best to glare at him. “I haven’t seen you in years. I just -”

“Repressed a lot of stuff, huh?”

Steve swallows and nods. “I couldn’t even really talk to you before ...”

Before what happened happened. Before Tony laid down his life so the universe would live.

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Tony says wryly. “Look at us.”

“It would’ve been better than this,” Steve fires back.

“But it’s all you will ever get.”

It’s obvious that this is a thing of Steve’s own mind. Tony’s voice had never been so cold and cruel. Angry, yes, but never cold.

Steve gets up and turns away from him. He can’t bear to look at Tony’s face, knowing it’ll miss the warmth he used to look at him with.

“Would you do anything different?” Tony asks quietly. “If you knew. Everything, I mean.”

Steve pauses. “I don’t know.”

There’s lots of obvious answers.

_Wouldn’t have let you die._

_Wouldn’t have kept my back to you for so long._

_Wouldn’t have left you in Siberia._

But one question prevails all; _how?_

How was he supposed to save Tony, where was he supposed to get the strength he’d lacked to call him, what do in Siberia once he’d turned back around; Tony clearly didn’t want to see him anymore, and he couldn’t very well leave Bucky instead.

“I just know that I’m sorry,” Steve whispers.

“Why do you keep saying that?” He can practically hear the frown in Tony’s voice. “I can’t give you the forgiveness you want. I’m not him.”

“I know.” Steve tries to fight the lump in his throat and fails.

Tony sighs. “You need to forgive yourself, Steve.”

Steve shakes his head, because that, that’s even more unlikely than Tony forgiving him (if he could).

He wants to reach out to Tony know, like he should’ve done all those years ago, but he knows his fingers will pass right through Tony’s skin like air.

Steve is well and truly alone.


End file.
